


the riot's gone

by geneeste



Category: Arrow (TV 2012)
Genre: Angst, F/M, Pay No Attention to the Woman Behind the Curtain, Post-season 4 breakup, This fic brought to you by the Gilmore Girls and JSevick, repost
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-08
Updated: 2016-02-08
Packaged: 2021-02-26 07:14:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 639
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21829558
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/geneeste/pseuds/geneeste
Summary: There’s desperation in his voice, and it’s the closest she’s seen him come to crying since she first found out, even on the night she left. It’s just what she needs, and it’s too much. She’s never been a cruel person until now.
Relationships: Oliver Queen/Felicity Smoak
Kudos: 7





	the riot's gone

**Author's Note:**

> Hi! You might notice that this is not a new fic. I’ve been doing some archiving of old fic and realized that I didn’t love how bloated the collection “So It Goes” had gotten; it’s not very reader-friendly, particularly to readers who like to use tagging as a way to filter out stuff they don’t want to read. So I’m pulling out the longer works and publishing them as stand-alone fics. If you’re a subscriber and getting notifications about these, sorry about that! It’s not my intention to spam you, and I backdated these works to help distinguish them from new ones. Thanks for your patience, and happy reading!
> 
> ——-
> 
> Here's a little angsty fic based on late-season spoilers. Poor darlings. This is also unbeta'd, so all mistakes are mine.
> 
> Title taken from Santigold's song of the same name.

She doesn’t know why she calls him.

She knows it’s selfish, and probably hurtful considering she was the one who left, the one who said it was over.

All she knows is that she’s in pain, emotionally and physically, and the crushing weight of being without him, of being truly alone for the first time since she was shot, is making her eyes burn and her chest heavy. Her shoulders shake under the oppressive silence in her suite.

When Oliver bursts through her bedroom door, out of breath like he’d run the whole way, she’s not surprised, but she is relieved. It’s then that she realizes just why she’d broken down, nearly a month out from forcing her heart away.

She’d needed to prove to herself that this connection hadn’t been a lie. That despite how it all ended, despite all the lies he’d told and that she’d let herself believe, he hadn’t lied about this.

Just about everything else.

It’s too late to hide her splotchy skin and red eyes, so she just takes a deep breath and wipes her nose. She can’t acknowledge how he visibly flinches at the sight. She picks a spot just underneath his chin, because she’s too sad and ashamed to look him in the eye.

“What is it? Are you in pain?” He approaches slowly, like he’s afraid of spooking her. There’s a key in his hand, and she should be shocked or annoyed that he has it, but she’s not. Of course he would know how to get to her - he always had. “What can I do?”

“You can go home,” she says. She pushes herself up the best she can from her position on her bed, where she’d been propped up for most the night and averts her eyes from his fallen face. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have done this.”

He swallows, and he rubs a hand over his face. He hasn’t been shaving. “It’s okay, I...What do you need? I can do anything.”

Oh, how her back throbs and her throat aches. She just wants relief, and she could get it from him, but she also can’t. There’s nothing he can give her that she’ll trust. “I’m sorry,” she says again. “This isn’t fair to either of us. I won’t do this again, I promise.”

He sits tentatively on the bed next to her. “I don’t mind. I want you to- any reason you need me, I’ll come.”

There’s desperation in his voice, and it’s the closest she’s seen him come to crying since she first found out, even on the night she left. It’s just what she needs, and it’s too much. She’s never been a cruel person until now. “I know. I won’t call again.”

He looks away, like he’s trying to gather himself, and nods. “I’ll lock up on my way out,” he says softly, voice hoarse and face still turned away.

“Okay.” He rises from the bed, and her eyes linger on his back. She’d always been drawn to it, the way his muscles rippled under his shirt, how his strength radiated out from his shoulders and arms and cradled her like a treasure. Now she wonders if it was ever really meant for her, and she hates that maybe most of all.

He’s so quiet when he leaves that she barely hears the door close or the slick of the lock as Oliver turns it into place. She gives herself a few moments to feel the loss and weakness again, and then another few to forgive herself for it.

When she’s ready, she deliberately places her phone on the nightstand, screen down, and turns off the lamp. She pulls one of the pillows out from behind her back and hugs it to her side, closing her eyes against the darkness.

She sleeps alone.

**Author's Note:**

> Also, this is loosely inspired by that scene in Gilmore Girls in which Lorelai calls Luke to come over after their break up, because he’s her best friend. I love that scene, despite how sad it is, because Luke did come (and I know the Oliver we love would too).


End file.
